


That Was Wrong Of Me (I'm So Sorry)

by RollerJason



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anger, Angst, Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I am so sorry Tommy but u must suffer more, I'm Sorry, Rage, its for the content im sure you'll understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29350278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RollerJason/pseuds/RollerJason
Summary: "Wilbur is a very vocal person. Mind you, he doesn’t talk constantly, but he does prefer to talk things out rather than brawl. Use his voice rather than use his fist. You know, poetic and shit.He is different to Techno, his brother, in this sense. Techno will try to speak about issues first, but hand to hand fights are just easier than words for him. Especially when the people he fights more often than not are too stubborn to have their views swayed.So yeah, Wil uses his vast vocabulary and eloquent voice to curve physical fights and aggravated persons. (Phil proposes his good looks help too, but Wil insists that he is only saying that because he has to, being fatherly and all.)Wilbur must have some sort of annoying attribute though, because he seems to get in less than ideal, heated situations very often. Which he is noticing right now, usually calm, debateful tone twanging the edge of hateful."Or:Wilbur's building anger overflows and does so, unitentionally, at Tommy. His outburst sends him to a wreck-yard where he just goes ape shit yk- After calming down, he realizes how much he fucked up and goes back home to make up.(fuckin- uhhh- see notes, idk!)
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	That Was Wrong Of Me (I'm So Sorry)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! Honestly I don't like this one very much but the idea of like someone going ape shit in a junk yard was too strong so I made it.
> 
> Um this isn't shipping obviously, that's not okay. If Wilbur or Tommy ever say they are uncomfortable with these kinds of fics or fics in general, this will be taken down. I don't want to hurt them or their friendship <3
> 
> Enjoy!!!!!!!!!
> 
> ~RollerJason <3

Wilbur is a very vocal person. Mind you, he doesn’t talk  _ constantly _ , but he does prefer to talk things out rather than brawl. Use his voice rather than use his fist. You know, poetic and shit.

He is different to Techno, his brother, in this sense. Techno will try to speak about issues first, but hand to hand fights are just easier than words for him. Especially when the people he fights more often than not are too stubborn to have their views swayed.

So yeah, Wil uses his vast vocabulary and eloquent voice to curve physical fights and aggravated persons. (Phil proposes his good looks help too, but Wil insists that he is only saying that because he has to, being fatherly and all.)

Wilbur must have some sort of annoying attribute though, because he seems to get in less than ideal, heated situations very often. Which he is noticing right now, usually calm, debateful tone twanging the edge of hateful.

Look, it’s not that he doesn’t like Tommy, it’s just that his kid brother can be overbearing and just a little oblivious to when buttons are being pushed just a bit too far. So, he promises, he doesn’t hate the, rather charming, teen.

He just has been getting into confrontations a lot recently and perhaps letting that slowly growing anger fester wasn’t the most healthy thing to do.

Part of him is saying it’s too late though; His dramatism wanting attention despite his love regretting the increasing volume of his voice.

It isn’t until his rant on something he isn’t really sure about anymore, not thinking about the words and instead the hot fire in his stomach that needs the words to get out, ends with a harsh flick of his tongue that sends hurt flashing in Tommy’s eyes, that he realises perhaps he went too far.

Techno and Phil aren’t home. Tech off at the nearby Best Buy because his phone screen cracked from “falling” and Phil still at work. He knows if they were there it probably wouldn’t have gotten this far, but they aren’t here and wouldn’t be for a while and Wil is still red from irritation.

So he huffs, snatches his coat off the rack, murmurs a monotone ‘i’ll be back’, and slams the door on his way out.

His walk to someplace he’s had to pick Techno up from more than a few times is fairly quiet, them living in a desolate part of town and all.

The silence makes way for stirring thoughts though, and the annoyance mingles with guilt until his steps are heavy and they aren’t really steps anymore and more so stomping.

It’s a little chilly, fall bringing crunching leaves beneath his thick boots, but he can’t say he minds it when he’s burning with rage.

Finally, he reaches the abandoned junkyard. Rusted metal and graffiti inviting his temper in like an old lady with a stray cat. Homely.

At this point his anger is dying ever so slightly from the walk (just the repetitive action doing at least something), but it’s still there enough to have him clenching his jaw until it hurts. Figuring he can’t calm down just from shouting (he already tried that) he resorts to picking up a lonely bat.

Bobbing it in his hand for a second then gripping it, he looks around.

A small pile of beer bottles, most likely still smelling of alcohol judging from the glint on the mouth rim, sit idle on a nearby car hood.

A slight, albeit a little crazed, smile quirks his lips up. 

One step, two and then run, skid and swing.

The cracking and breaking sounds of glass, the airborne shards shining in the low sun that is turning the sky a bright orange that compliments the hot red of his vision, are satisfying in a way that warrants the want for more.

And that’s what he does, swing and swing and swing, bottle after bottle after bottle, until his arms are on fire and his joints turn to jelly and the mad expression on his face softens. Gravity pulls him back down to earth from his flying feeling of adrenaline.

Sweat glistens on his forehead and the, now even more nicked, bat falls to the dusty, sand like dirt. 

Wilbur uses his words more often than not, but sometimes the build up is too much and going out and away from everyone else in the world to just hit shit works just as well.

Calming down from the anger though, leaves him with just his remorse and his smile quickly falls, gravity and the weight of his actions pulling the happiness from his face.

_ Shit. _

He’d fucked up with that one. Tommy didn’t deserve to be berated for something so dumb (Wil remembers the arguement now, something about Tommy not doing the dishes. He’s pretty sure Tommy hadn’t even been able to tell him why he hadn’t gotten around to it before Wil was digging into him.)

If there was one thing Wilbur hated more than not having a clean plate to eat from, it was leaving a conflict with a fight. He didn’t like ending a difference with both sides being broken instead of better-ed.

So trudge his ass back to their urual home he did. 

Shuffling his feet on the outside mat, making sure to tap his toe to fling most of the dirt off his shoes, he made his way inside.

Closing the door softly this time, his hand left the handle to tug off his coat by the sleeves to hook it back to it’s hanger.

Wandering the house a bit, his search for Tommy is made short when he leans to listen to the blond’s door. quiet sniffles twist Wilbur’s heart and he knocks his knuckles on the red painted wood.

“Tommy? Can I come in?” He says, making sure his voice is filled to the brim with sorry.

There’s a wearily spoken allowance of admission and Wil takes it to open the door and step in.

Tommy is sitting on his bed, up against the wall and wrapped in a thick blanket, tear tracks down his cheeks.

The vice of regret around his chest squeezes more and Wilbur fully lets it, walking the length of the room to slowly sit down next to Tommy.

He hesitates but, “Can I hold you?” He asks instead of ‘do you want to be held’ because even when Tommy is upset he will refuse to be honest.

Wilbur can see the reluctance in his small nod, but it’s a nod nonetheless so he carefully uses his hand to card his fingers through the fluffy blond locks and pull Tommy flush to his chest.

And then he does what he set out to do, “Toms, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.” He says with a righteous but soothing voice, “You did nothing wrong and I should have bit my tongue and taken my anger out elsewhere. You didn’t deserve that at all, nor did you deserve me walking out on you without even telling you where I was going and leaving you to be alone.”

Tommy’s frame wracks with the sound of choked sobs and Wilbur tightens his arms from where they hug the teen.

“I’m so sorry.” he whispers with as much clarity of guilt and recognition as he can, pressing a kiss to the top of Tommy’s head.

“It’s okay..” Tommy whispers back, his usually high volume reduced to barely audible. 

Wilbur hates that he did that.

“It’s not okay.”

Tommy’s voice comes a bit louder this time, “Then I accept your apology,” Wil manages to almost smile through the remorse still swimming in his gut. “But you have to buy me chocolate.”

A small giggle from Tommy has his lips spreading across his face against his will and the whole situation suddenly feels a lot better.

Wilbur figures that’s just how Tommy is, brightening up a room with only a few simple words.

And after an affirmation, which Wilbur feels is more so a promise, to buy some chocolate oranges, the joking remark that Tommy makes about making Wilbur “do shit” for him for who knows how long, sends another, even wider grin to his face.

Tommy is like him in that sense, taming a confrontation with witty words instead of bloody fists.

Wilbur can’t help but love him for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Anger is a strong emotion and it does a lot of damage. Lots of times it isn't forgivable but sometimes it can be. If you ever find yourself in a similar fuck-up to the one in my story, recognize the wrong, apologize, take the blame, and work to make a next time not happen. Same goes vise versa; if someone fucks up, don't accept their actions until they have recognized the wrong, apologized, taken the blame, and worked to make a next time not happen. Stay safe <3
> 
> Sorry for that heavy bit, but I felt it needed to be clarified.
> 
> Comments, compliments, complaints, and criticisms are always welcomed and encouraged! (Also, if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes please tell me!)
> 
> My socials:  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/roller_jason/  
> Tumblr: https://rollerjason.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/RollerJason1
> 
> ~RollerJason <3


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